Day Zero
by Haylis
Summary: Reid is raped. He isn't telling anyone, but the story doesn't stop there. Of course it doesn't. Mentions of rape and drug addiction. Takes place back when Prentiss and JJ were on the team.
1. Break the Silence

_**A/N: I am not sure where this story is actually going, but hopefully it's going somewhere. If you find any mistakes please leave a review and tell me. Also leave a review if you thing I am doing a great/terrible job portraying the characters, since this is my first real CM fic. Also leave a review if you want me to write faster! For each review I'll write...something on this story. Hope you enjoy!**_

_**Title for chapter comes from Thomas Rings song of same name; Break the Silence. **_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Day 9<strong>_

In America a woman is raped every 2 minutes. One out of every 10 rape victims is male. 75 % of male students and 55 % of female students involved in date rape – _Stop._

84 % of the women who are raped – Stop.

57 % of the rapes – **Stop!**

He tries to distract himself with pictures of their newest case. A blond girl with dead glassy eyes stares up at him, and he finds him actually smiling. She was shot and the shooter never as much as touched her. Meaning no rape.

_Over one-third of all women in America will be sexually assaulted or abused in their lifetime…_

At least she won't have to experience that. But then again maybe it has already happened to her, after all an estimated 4-5 out of every 10 of all American children (under 16) are sexually molested.

God, he _really_ needs to stop doing that.

_**Day 5**_

It's on the 5th day that he decides he won't tell anyone. Not because he can't, not because he's afraid of their reaction, not because he's humiliated. He simply… doesn't want to. He knows he can do it by himself, he doesn't believes it, he knows it. It'll be alright.

Morgan did it, so why not him? Besides the primary motives for rape are aggression, dominance and anger. He knows this, so if he just keeps calm the unSub won't win.

It'll be alright.

_**Day 2**_

"Hotch, it's Reid."

"Where are you? We got a case in Phoenix yesterday. We couldn't get a hold of you."

"I – I know, I was sick."

"Why didn't you call in?"

"I wanted to – I was really sick, slept through most of the day. Did you know that bacteria–"

"No I didn't. Garcia will be able to fill you in on the case and then you can go to the airport –"

"Actually, if it's alright with you, I would like to take a week of vacation, I'm still feeling a bit unwell and-"

"You don't have to take vacation just because you're sick Reid,"

"No, I know, but I would like to visit my mother. It's been awhile, and I know this isn't the best time, we got a case, but I-"

"It's never the best time Reid, and we _always_ got a case. Just take that vacation and visit your mother. We'll be able to do handle this one case without you."

"Are you sure it's alright?"

"You earned it Reid. It'll be good for you, yes I'm sure."

"-I'll get the case files from Garcia, and then I'll be able to help over the phone –"

"Reid, take your vacation. I won't answer any call to my phone for the next week, and I'll forbid Garcia from giving you any information on the case."

"But-"

"No buts Reid. I'll see you in a week."

_**Day 9**_

"Nevaeh Moore, Kelly Cox, Cassandra White– Mariah Davis is the newest and fourth victim." J.J. pointed to each of the girls and their innocent faces popped up, next to their bloody bodies.

"Why so much blood? The file says they were only shot once each." Rossi looked up from his file with a raised eyebrow. The rest of the team looked up as well, including Reid who had to tear his eyes away from the girl who apparently was Mariah Davis.

J.J. was solemn as she answered. "He knew how – and where - to hit his targets." It was always a bit harder when it was kids. "So somebody with knowledge of anatomy." Morgan said. He looked solemn too.

Reid remembered Carl Buford, and found that he never wanted to understand Morgan so well.

_**Day 4**_

Reid hadn't really meant to actually travel to Las Vegas. It had only been a quick excuse, but he knew Garcia would be a bit more than a little suspicious if she discovered he hadn't bought a ticket. He wasn't sure if she would actually check as long as he kept on his act, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, Las Vegas or _… It didn't really matter for him. Nothing really seemed to do anymore, but he tried not to think about it too much.

He shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable, and maybe a bit of sleep, but it was to no use. Every time he closed his eyes unpleasant pictures formed their way into his thoughts, so he finally gave up and opened his eyes to stare out of the window. There was nothing to see really, only empty air.

_**Day 1**_

He is shaking, and crying and he can feel the lump in his throat. For the first time in a long time, he can't get his eyes away from the Dilaudid. He never got rid of it. He really wants it.

He is shaking, and crying, and, and… Suicide is most common on Mondays.

**Day 3**

"Hello my sugar muffin! No, you aren't getting the file." Just as he thought, Hotchner's threat wasn't empty, but that wasn't a problem. He was a genius after all. That hadn't changed.

"I – That wasn't –" He hoped it was convincing enough, but logically it should be. Garcia was the only one of them who wasn't a profiler – well except J.J., but she was close enough – and besides, Hotch had believed him. Why wouldn't they? This wasn't like Tobias. They hadn't watched him getting tortured; they weren't on their toes for the signs of something being wrong.

Even then, they hadn't really done that much other than watched and slipped small comments. This time probably wouldn't be any different. Logically they wouldn't notice.

But then again they were the best.

"Honey, you're like an open book. You can hide nothing from your big bad mamma." An open book… She defiantly hadn't noticed. Logic always won.

"I just want something to read Garcia! I promise, I won't call Hotch and I won't intervene in the case in _any_ way." He whined and pouted as well as he could. It wasn't that hard to fake it. He was used to being himself.

"Afraid I can't do that Spency. I've got strict orders from the evil overlord." He could already hear the softness creeping into her voice, it wouldn't be long. God, how he hated to trick Garcia.

"Spency? And please Garcia!"

"It fits don't you think? And I'm sorry but it's a no-go."

"Another case then! I didn't get to read anything _at all _Monday, and I haven't got the time to make a trip to the library, I need to pack. Please _Penelope_."

"Oh-ow, a certain doctor is fighting dirty," _Dirty indeed._ "And Hotch didn't really say anything about other case files, so I suppose… But why don't you just buy books at the airport?" A qualified question, but an easy one to duck as well.

"But I never buy books." An innocent little sentence, which sounded almost like a question and which wasn't completely true.

"You never buy books? I find that a little bit hard to believe Mr. Doctor Genius."

"I nearly only read all books once, so what's the point? And besides, if I had to buy every book I ever read, and we assume that the average price for a book is-"

"Yeah, yeah I got it. You're not only a coffee addict but a book addict as well. Which cases are you interested in?" He had reached his goal. Now he just had to make sure he was in character, which was completely ridiculously since he was himself. But it was necessary.

After all, he wasn't really sure if he was himself anymore. Hell, he wasn't. The Doctor Spencer Reid from before would never have lied and manipulated Garcia as he had done it. The Doctor Spencer Reid from before wouldn't think so much like an unSub. Because that was what he felt like he was doing.

"_Madness is a lot like gravity. All it need is a little push." By Joker in the movie the Dark Knight, directed by Christopher Nolan, screenplay by Jonathan and Christopher Nolan, story by David S. Goyer and-_

"Hello? Anyone there? Did you get lost in your own mind?" He could practically hear Garcia's teasing smile through the phone. He managed to force a little laugh, which actually didn't feel so forced after all. Maybe he hadn't completely lost himself after all.

"Oh – I'm so sorry – so sorry - I didn't mean it like that!" Garcia suddenly shrieked.

"I'm sorry but I don't – why are you saying sorry?"

"With your mother, and - and your mind – I swear I didn't mean it like that!" So that was what she was freaking out about. He hadn't even realized… Probably because he had other_ things_ on his mind.

"I know Garcia, I know. I didn't even realize it, so no worries." He couldn't help but smile to himself.

"Oh… Good! Back to that reading of yours, which case files do you wanna read?"

"Oh I don't know…" A straight forward lie. Of course he knew what he wanted.

"What about boys...?" Slowly and unsure. She couldn't get _any_ hint of what this was really about.

"What kind of boys? Unfortunately there is a lot."

"Just… All under 18 years old."

"Boy Wonder, do you know how many that is? I know you got your ultra fast reading thing, but we're talking big numbers here. Very big."

"Just the worst cases then. Rape, torture, stuff like that." He could hear Garcia shuddering through the phone. She was not the only one. He could feel the goose bumps with the thought of… _that_.

"You're hitting for a real horror of reading. You got the popcorns ready right? And the flash light."

"Popcorn and flashlight?" Sometimes he didn't really get Garcia. Sometimes he didn't get the team for that sake too.

"Yeah, like when you watch horror movie you know?" He didn't. He knew what a horror movie was, but why popcorns? And why did people watch those movies anyway, that was something he'd never get. Watching people getting killed for fun…

"Never mind," Garcia said when he didn't answer "I'll send those files to you then."

"How? I don't have what I believe is called 'an email address'." Garcia gasped through the phone.

"Not an email? You don't have that? How can you not? You must!"

"Maybe you can help me make one when I get home," He said, not because he wanted one, but because he didn't feel like hearing Garcia talk about how he still lived back in "Grandpa time". There were more important things on hand. "But for now, I'll just come and get the files. And Garcia?"

"Hmm, I still can't believe you don't have an email. And I still can't believe I didn't know! Which kind of friend am I when I don't know such things about you?"

He ignored her outburst. He couldn't take it right now. _When I don't know such things about you…_ People were allowed to have their secrets. Even from friends.

"Make sure you get the cases where the victims survived as well. Some of them could have connections to –"

"I'm stopping you right now, boy genius. I can feel a lecture is on its way. Don't worry; I'll get all of your files, including living victims. But there is still a lot of cases Spency, we're talking –"

"I am a fast reader. I'll see you at the BAU. Bye."

He almost missed her "Goodbye to you too, my Einstein" as he laid the phone down.

_**Day 13**_

"There's been another victim." J.J. says as soon as she enters the room. Rossi nods, while Garcia tries to stop the tears once again rising up in her eyes. "We know," and at the same time they say two different names.

"Olivia Wood" Rossi says, as J.J. says "Jennifer Reid"

They all look at each other with wide eyes. Garcia can no longer hold back her tears.

_**Day 8**_

"Hey, look who's here! It's pretty boy!" Reid had tried to sneak his way into the office – of course he knew it was a pointless mission, but it didn't stop him from trying. He hadn't seen any of his team mates since before it happened. It felt… awkward. Weird and unsafe – one wrong move, and his secret could be discovered. They were profilers after all.

"Hey" He said to Morgan and smiled a tired smile. He had decided not to fake too much. It would only leave him on deep water. Morgan came over to ruffle his hair, Prentiss walking right behind him.

"You look like a hanged _and_ drowned cat" He said, smiling wide. Good. They didn't suspect anything too serious. "Thanks" He answered sarcastically, but keeping the smile once his face, even widening it a bit as he places his shoulder bag next to his desk.

"Really, what have you been up to? You can't just disappear on us like that Reid! We haven't heard from you in a whole week!" Morgan exclaimed, and dramatically Prentiss continued: "For all we know you could have been dead!"

"But I – I swear I didn't disappear, I talked to Hotch - he said it was okay. Didn't he tell you?"

Reid realized it had just been for fun, when they both began laughing their buts off. "We know pretty boy, we know" Morgan said in between his laughs, while Prentiss panted: "Can't – believe… - you freaked – like, like - …_that_!"

At least it got their mind of his look – as Morgan had said it _"You look like a hanged and drowned cat"._ Well, for now anyway. He had no hope that it would last.

_**Day 1**_

He will only do it this one time. Just one last time, to ease the pain. To escape reality – He has the right to do it. Besides, one time won't hurt.

He has been clean for so long… But it'll only be one time, and he won't have to tell anyone. It'll just be quick, and it'll be like it never happened. No one needs to discover, it's only his business anyways. Just like one glass of wine won't hurt anyone, actually a glass of red wine and a bit of dark chocolate each night has shown to have a healthy effect. As long as it's no more than that.

No, _no_, **no**. No. He shouldn't do it. No, he really shouldn't.

He just really, really wants to.

He'll be both a hooker and a junkie. He tries to push the thought away.

_**Day 5**_

He did not know why he was here. Of all places, here. But he was, and he was standing on the doorstep, having just pushed the doorbell. Already regretting it, wanting to be anywhere but here. It had been a stupid idea.

Really stupid.

He was just about to step away from the door, run away, when it opened and he became trapped. Trapped by moral and a really bad, an injudicious decision.

"Spencer?" His father, William Reid, asked with a big question mark planted on his face. "What are you doing here?" Reid wished he was completely sure himself.

_**Day 4**_

He checks in late at night. The hotel is cheap and not especially clean, but he doesn't care. He doesn't feel clean himself, so he doesn't want to have to look at some expensive furniture or all the other clean nice people. It's a stupid reason, he knows, and logically he knows that rape is never the victims fault – but it's just like the drugs. You can say so much about things, know so much about things, but it's always different when it is yourself. When it's not just words in a book.

The man who gives him the keys ogles him. It is completely innocent, but Reid freaks and run to his room. He locks the door, and slides down in, sitting with his head in his hands.

The next morning he switches hotel.


	2. Family Portrait

_**A/N: I always appreciate reviews! Thanks to everybody who left one last chapter… And a special thanks to someone out there who shared a story with me! You know who you are, I hope. And otherwise I'll let you know – I probably should have done it already, but I'm forgetful like that.**_

_**Chapter title is the song Family Portrait by P!nk**_

_**Day 9**_

JJ and Reid had been assigned to visit and talk to the fourth victim's, Mariah Davis's, family. Or, as it turned out, her sister.

"So how was your sister? Did she have any hobbies, any interests?" JJ asked sweetly, as she sipped a bit of the tea Emily Davis had offered them.

Emily closed her eyes, and nodded. Then she opened her eyes again to answer. "She- she was a sweet girl. She helped a lot. Helped me too much.

JJ took another sip of the tea and smiled encouragingly at her. Reid tried to do the same thing, but he was pretty sure it didn't work. He had never really been good at these situations, and somehow he couldn't help but get terrible pictures at his retina. Pictures which had nothing to do with the case, but just wouldn't go away. _Slowly the man took of his pants, and he could just lay helplessly at the ground, not even able to scream. _

"She was good in school, she had a lot of friends, she liked the color blue, she went to gymnastics, she wanted an mp3 player, sometimes she was angry at me for taking an education or getting a job, she missed a real mom, she –" Emily was tripping over her own words, and talking faster than a high-speed train, not pausing for breath and with tears running down her face. JJ stopped her.

"It's all right, calm down. Why was Mariah angry at you for not taking an education or getting a job?"

Emily sniffed, and a little hiccup escaped her. "She just wanted to be like everybody else. And – and she thought I was wasting my life. She knew I could do it, so she didn't see why… "Suddenly JJ's phone rang, and JJ smiled apologetically at Emily. "I know it's really rude of me, but it's my husband and he was going to take my son to the doctor today, so if it's okay with you…" Emily nodded in an empty agreement. JJ smiled. "Dr. Reid will continue with you then." JJ said, and Reid was left alone with Emily as JJ went out to take her phone.

The silence roared. So Reid said the first thing that came to his mind: "Did you know that of murdered American children younger than 5, 61 % of them were been murdered by their parents? 30 % by their mothers and 31 % by their fathers. Also, did you know that 84 % of women raped knew their assailants? And did you know that the spring months, March, April and May have shown to have 4-6 % higher suicide rate than average for the rest of the - "

Reid stopped when he discovered that Emily had begun crying. He wondered how long she had been doing it, because he hadn't really been keeping an eye on her, while he had been caught in the world of statistics.

"Oh – Oh – I'm sorry!" He squeaked, and helplessly tried to pat her arm. Reid just hoped that JJ would come back soon. It was quite awkward.

"It's all my fault, isn't it?" Emily whispered, in between hiccups.

_**Day 6**_

Reid went to a casino that night. It wasn't something he did often, but he was quite good at it. Actually more than quite good, and if he had wanted to he could probably have lived on winnings from casino's. This time was no exception.

The thing was that he gave up all his winnings to a random big guy he met, who reminded him just a bit to o much about _him_. He gave all 5000$ to a complete stranger, and ran the last bit of way back to his hotel. He knew it was pathetic. He still ran.

_**Day 4**_

He had skimmed through all of the cases Garcia had found for him, and had sorted all the murders and/or torture cases away. Leaving him with all the rape cases of boys in Virginia.

_**Day 8**_

"Reid." It was Hotch. "The week isn't over until tomorrow."

Of course Reid knew that, and he would gladly have waited until tomorrow to come to work. But he also knew that would be terribly uncharacteristic for him. He had never really taken any holiday or days off in the first place. He had always loved his job. He had yet to see if he still did.

"Technically the week is over, because even though I didn't take holiday before Tuesday, I didn't come to work Monday." He replied smiling. He swore he saw a smile form its way onto Hotch's mouth. He was also pretty sure it was more real than his own.

"Well, it's good to have you back."

_**Day 5**_

Spencer is starring at the coffee cup in his hands, while his father is bustling about in the kitchen behind him. Spencer hasn't said a word since entering the house.

"Do you like chocolate cake? I bought one 2 days ago, haven't had a chance to taste it yet… I remember, when you were little, you used to love chocolate cake."

Spencer doesn't answer him.

"If you don't like it, I have biscuits instead… and Madeira cake. What do you say…?"

Spencer still doesn't answer him. He doesn't want to; it was a bad idea to come. But he still can't make himself leave.

"Well, I can just take it all to the table, and then you can take whatever you want…?" He sounds insecure. Not partially weird since his son, who he hasn't really seen since the son was 7 (except that one time where said son thought he had killed a man) has just showed up on his doorstep, furthermore not saying a word.

Spencer can't really blame him for feeling insecure.

"I still like chocolate cake." He says at last.

"Did you know that Madeira cake dates back to an original recipe from the 18th or 19th century? Many people think that it got its name from the Madeira Islands, but that is incorrect. In reality Madeira cake was named after the wine, which accompanied the dish. That was of course Madeira wine, which actually was named after the Madeira Islands, as it were made on those. The Madeira Islands actually have a long history of winemaking –"

Spencer's rambling is interrupted by his father, who now has a tint of a smile on his face.

"Okay now I'm confused. Do you want Chocolate cake or Madeira cake, or are you actually just here hoping to get really drunk?"

"No – No! I was just stating the fact that Madeira cake is named after the wine –"

His father laughs. "I know you are a genius and all, but seriously. Which books do you read to know the history of cakes?"

Spencer blushes slightly. Maybe it wasn't such a big mistake after all. And as James Joyce, Irish novelist and poet, said: "A man's errors are his portals of discovery."

_**Day 1**_

"Rape is the only crime in which the victim becomes the accused." Freda Adler, criminologist and educator, born 1934.

_**Day 1**_

In America a woman is raped every 2 minutes, while in China someone takes his or her own life every 2 minutes.

_**Day 2**_

He has been humiliated before. The goalpost incident is still clear in his near perfect memory. But this… This is beyond humiliating. This is like someone has went in and gapped his soul, twisting it for their own _**s I c k**_ purpose.

He can feel nothing but the rare, uncontrolling, helpless anger.

Yet, all he wants is a hug. Someone to tell him it's all going to be okay. The fact is, he's a genius. He's a damn profiler. He knows it's never going to be okay. He knows the scars will never fade.

_**Day 8**_

At the end of the day it's not worse, nor better, than he imagined. It's simply and flatly just as he imagined it. His relationship with his colleagues (his family, his friends) hasn't changed. His ability to do his job has yet to have let any damage. His want to do his job stays the same as before. He is still a genius; he can state the same facts as before. He can still think faster, read faster, and know faster than anyone else.

…And still it seems a dark cloud is hanging over him, casting shadows everywhere.

_**Day 4**_

"You're sick Spencer. You are very sick." She smiles calmly at him. "No, no… I was… I was raped." She shakes her head lightly, the calm smile still on her face.

"There is no need to lie to yourself Spencer. You didn't get raped."

Spencer turns to Derek. "Derek, please. I'm not sick. He – raped me."

Derek looks at him. "I can't believe you Spencer," He's accusing. "After what happened to me – You think it's just fun? You think you have the right to complain?"

"I'm not – I know, I know, but I'm not. I'm not _sick_."

Derek disappears. "Derek, - Derek! Don't leave me!"

Derek isn't there. He isn't coming back. She taps her pen at the table to get his attention again.

"Spencer, who were you talking to?" She asks him. Why doesn't she know?

"But – It was Derek. He was just there?" She pats his arm softly. "Spencer, there wasn't anyone." She says.

"Yes there was! Derek Morgan, my colleague in the FBI. At the BAU, don't tell me you didn't see him!" He is becoming a bit desperate and very annoyed with her. She can't just – He was just there!

"Spencer, you don't work for the FBI. I thought we had gone through this. But it's very important that you understand, so we'll go though it again. You have schizophrenia Spencer, and in your confusing you killed someone. That's why you are here. To get better, so you won't hurt anyone again."

He is confused. What is she talking about? He hasn't killed anyone – he is a profiler, and Derek Morgan is a real living person!

"I'm not! I'm not sick! My mother is sick, and yes she got schizophrenia and yes there's a 10 % chance that I will inherit it, but I – I am profiler and Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Penelope Garcia, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi and Emily Prentiss they're all real living person, who works for the FBI as profilers, and they are my colleagues!"

She is silent for a while, during which she continues to smile calmly, before she squeezes his hand extremely hard and says: "Spencer, Penelope Garcia was the woman you killed. You know that. Aaron Hotchner was the police officer who arrested you. The others are just hallucinations Spencer. You need to accept that, because you're sick. You're very sick Spencer, and you can't just excuse your sickness with a lie about being raped when it isn't true Spencer." She continues to smile calmly. "There are other people who actually _have _been raped, think of how they would feel."

He screams and wakes up. Then he cries alone in the hotel room, wishing someone was there to give him a hug.

_**Day 10**_

Emma Meyer tells them that Nevaeh Moore hated their mathematics teacher, because he was 'creepy'. She also tells him that most of the class thought so, probably including Kelly Cox. As it turns out Mariah Davis had the same math teacher as Nevaeh Moore and Kelly Cox. It's a start.

_**Day 1**_

He doesn't do it. Not then. He talks himself into waiting till tomorrow. He's lying to himself; he won't do it tomorrow either. But is it really a lie? _(The drugs are calling for him, Spencer, Spencer, __**Spencer!**__)_

_**Day 9**_

JJ finally comes back, and Spencer keeps his promise. He keeps his mouth shut. They say goodbye to Emily Davis, and get a call from another Emily.

"Found anything?" Emily's voice sounds from JJ's phone. JJ shakes her head, but of course Emily can't see that so she adds: "Nothing stands out yet. But we'll see. The poor sister was a wreck."

"Same here. But hopefully something matches. They got to have more in common than the age and the gender."

Spencer is about to open his mouth and explain exactly why they don't have to have anything else in common, but JJ sends him a sad pleading look, but a look none the less, and he shuts up like an ouster.

"Hopefully." JJ says.

Hopefully they'll catch the bastard who is doing this before it's too late. Hopefully they won't have another victim on their hands.

"Well, I just talked to Rossi and Hotch, seems they've finished interviewing Nevaeh Moore's family as well. Morgan's already back at the station, so we can get started on comparing the girls. So see you soon."

JJ said a goodbye, and Reid murmured something alike. Then the call was disconnected.

_**Day 9**_

_Spencer Reid & Emily Davis:_

"Of course it isn't your fault, you didn't kill your sister, and you couldn't have stopped this."

"You're wrong… Maybe. What if I could?"

"Could have what?"

"Stopped it. But I just thought – it just couldn't fit. But what if it does?"

"You'll have to tell me what you're talking about; otherwise I can't really answer your question."

"I – I can't. You won't understand."

"Tell me. I won't judge."

"But you won't understand."

"If you think you know who killed your sister, you really have –"

"I was raped."

"Oh."

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."

"I do. I promise. More than you know."

"How can you? You weren't raped! You didn't have to look him in the eyes nearly every day, pretending to be okay while taking care of your orphan sister!"

"So it's someone you know?"

"I said you wouldn't understand!"

"I do. But you need to tell me his name."

"No! Just tell me if you think it could be him. You – you're a profiler. Do you a rapist could have done it?"

"I really need more information than that –"

"I don't want to tell you! It's my – my… I'm not weak! I just need you to tell me if it could have been him. I don't need you to profile me, to think you know how I feel, because you don't!"

"I've already said it…"

"What?"

"That I do understand Emily. It doesn't… It doesn't only happen to women."

_**Day 6**_

It was, well not years, but at least a month or two since he had last thought upon Elle. Elle Greenaway, his former colleague who had killed a man in cold blood. Or not.

It wasn't his right to judge other people (profiling didn't count, it was only an educated guess after all) but since she left (without another word to them, least of all a goodbye) he had always felt that… gnawing feeling inside him, telling him that it probably was true. That she probably had done it.

The feeling only grew each time Elle was mentioned in Hotch's presence and he saw that _look_.

Now he remembered some of her last words (about how she still could feel him inside her) and he just couldn't blame her for doing what she did. He couldn't let himself go down that road, but… This was of course only if Elle truly had done as the rumors said.


End file.
